Another Method To Happiness

Was achieving Bliss such a pallid Repercussion
That it made everything, what else pale?
And bliss—"became a lightning rod for discussion”—
Whose nature—Buried us in those gay societal worries—
A worker’s heart and Soul—within a government to recussion;
As if the—Christ, one who smuggles the Robin from the leas
That it would keenly fade and melt away afterward—
Before the storm, before the Man who would not budge—
In a blink,—the Flash! Thrice—the charm!—
Tho’ The Monkey’s Paw had held the strongest grudge,—
From the—steppes, weeds in the beloved sward,—
So bitter the delayed Chaos, until Routine grows—Harm
All disintegrated, and sadly we are buried hopes and left —
—Being worse than how we were when it collaps’d—
Like—Tasmania where we were alway blamed for Theft,
Morose as the Crow,—(the prospect, an Angleworm had elapsed,)
‘Twere fancy reveries in the buoyant mistral’s raiment.—

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